Alone

My beloved 1968 Hermes 3000 in pieces on my workbench

This expedition began with a simple mistake. The 1968 Hermes 3000 typewriter often added a space after I typed the letter "a." It was annoying at first, and I accepted it as just the personality of the machine coming through the page. But quickly the annoyance turned to disappointment, anger, and eventually desperation.

The skipping didn't happen every time I typed the letter, but frequently enough to make the typewriter unusable for any important writing (which, of course, all of my writing is). I took it to the typewriter shop but they insisted the machine was fine and it must have been user error. I then realized I was on my own.

So began the exploratory surgery on my typewriter. Learning as I went, it was trial and error, actually all error, as I studied the mechanics and imagined the deal with the devil that the Swiss engineers must have made to design this thing.

Somehow, I managed to disassemble the machine beyond the scope of any typewriter repair video on YouTube. I have a master's degree from YouTube University, and the video platform has been my guide through every other build or repair I have attempted over the years, from simple home wiring and bathroom remodels, to rebuilding a Chevy 350. Imagine my fright when I determined there was no video on the internet that could help me.

I texted a popular typewriter mechanic on YouTube and asked him to point me to his video where he fixed my problem. He said he had never been faced with my problem, so there was no video. I could hear his thoughts of, "What's wrong with this guy? What moron would do this to his typewriter?" My last hope of an expert's diagnosis vanished. I was alone.

To find the outer limits of YouTube actually felt like exploration. Now I know what Magellan and Neil Armstrong must have felt, or the first surgeon to do open heart surgery, succeeding on their own intuition and experience, not relying on a textbook. Of course, I'm joking, but I do enjoy the experience of finding myself independent. The sherpas left me at base camp and I've set out to summit alone.

Weeks have passed with this in pieces on my workbench. I wish this newsletter had a happy ending, one where I'm clicking away on my perfectly repaired typewriter while you read this. Alas, this is not that newsletter. I am no closer to figuring it out than I was when I started. Well, that's not true. I can say I know many, many ways to NOT fix it. But maybe that's the point. Alone, with only my own talents, faced with the constant desperation to abandon it and buy a new one on eBay, I persevere. There's got to be a lesson in that. Otherwise, what's the point?